


The Only Exception

by centreoftheselights



Series: El Tango De Virgil [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: (I intend to write a third part to this), Alter Egos, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Anxiety, Developing Relationship, Emotional Confusion, Expectations, Fear of Vulnerability, First Kiss, Honesty, Hopeful Ending, Imaginary Arguments, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Overwhelment, Panic Attacks, Past Prostitution, Relationship Negotiation, Sensory Overload, Shorts Anxiety as one of Virgil's sides (almost), Supportive Logan Sanders, Survival Sex Work, Thoughts About Lying To Partner, Trauma, Unresolved Ending, Waltzing, implied past sexual assault, relationship fears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:21:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22835461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/centreoftheselights/pseuds/centreoftheselights
Summary: I promised I'd never sing of love if it does not exist.
Relationships: Analogical - Relationship, Virgil Sanders & Shorts Anxiety
Series: El Tango De Virgil [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1641595
Comments: 14
Kudos: 115





	The Only Exception

**Author's Note:**

> This is a follow-up to an earlier story of mine, intended to be part 2 of 3. Nothing is explicit but there are some heavy themes carried over from part 1 - be mindful of the warnings!

Virgil and Logan's second kiss is an accident.

Well – not an accident, because Virgil definitely means to kiss him. Only, he's spent the past four months staring at Logan and thinking “I'm going to kiss him, I mean it this time” and he wasn't expecting to actually _follow through with it_.

But Logan had just arrived back to their new apartment, home from work with an armful of groceries, and he'd been frowning in concentration trying to figure out how to fit all the food in the fridge and Virgil just – walks up to him, and kisses him.

Their lips touch, and it hits Virgil like lightning. He's been kissed hundreds of times by more men than he cares to think about, but it's never been like this before. It's like all of the air rushes out of his lungs, spiralling into a whole galaxy of stars around them, creating a whole new universe where nothing exists except for the place where his mouth touches Logan's.

Then the moment ends, and the fear floods in, filling the space hollowed out inside him. He chokes, doubling over, panic bubbling up –

“– V, Virgil, can you hear me? Breathe, I know you can do it –”

Logan is there in front of him, hovering in the way he does when he wants to touch but he's afraid it might make things worse. It might – Virgil doesn't know why he's so afraid, only that the thing his body just did is now terrifying to him.

He counts breaths, trying to fight the rising swell of panic that threatens to sweep him away. When Logan starts talking him through a grounding exercise, Virgil grabs for his hands, and grips tight, not wanting to let go. There are tears running down his face, and his voice is shaky, but he can do it.

“There,” Logan says softly. “Are you alright?”

Obviously not. Virgil is well aware that he must seem like a complete psycho, kissing Logan out of nowhere and then bursting into tears. The urge to lie to Logan is still strong, the words “I'm fine” poised on his tongue, but he bites it back.

Logan deserves better than a liar.

“Sorry,” he gasps instead, and Logan shakes his head.

“It's alright, V. You don't need to apologise.”

His expression is so soft, so tender. Sometimes Virgil wants to scream at him, because Logan should know better than to go around looking so vulnerable.

 _I bet he wants you to kiss him again_ , a voice whispers in Virgil's head, deep and dark and menacing. _You chose to start this. Now he's going to expect more._

Oh. That'll be what the crying is about.

“V…”

Logan cups his cheek, so light and careful, like Virgil is made of porcelain. Like he can't handle something rougher.

“I'm fine,” Virgil huffs, brushing his hand away.

He gets to his feet, only a little unsteady, and stalks out of the room.

***

Virgil automatically walks onto the bedroom, and sits down on the bed.

 _Their_ bed. The one they share together.

“Looking forward to tonight, when the lights go out and Logan tries to kiss you again?” asks the voice of Virgil's anxiety.

“Shut up,” Virgil thinks. “It isn't like that. He isn't like that.”

“You were a bit of a wet rag back there, but we both know you can do better. I'm sure you can make it up to him.”

“He doesn't want that! He wants me to _want_ to touch him.”

“You're right.” Virgil can hear the smirk in the imagined voice. “He wants you to feel it, like you did just then. Tell me… how many times do you think you can burn like that, before there's nothing left but ashes?”

Virgil's heart is pounding in his chest. He takes slow breaths, looking around him. Five things he can see – the bed, the lamp, the table, the curtains, the…

Mirror.

The Virgil in his reflection is hunched over, shaking, tear-stained. But it's so easy to imagine the same face in a different reflection – short skirt, thick eyeshadow, a come-hither look. A life he's trying to leave behind.

“But I'm not that easy to get rid of.”

It's ridiculous. Virgil knows that, knows there isn't anyone there. It's just him and the thoughts in his head, the ones he doesn't want to keep having –

“But you need me. You _are_ me.”

Virgil shakes his head, trying to push the thoughts away.

“I was always a different person around Logan. He lets me be the real me.”

“A different you, perhaps. But how can you say I'm not real? You were me for _years_.” Virgil pictures the sneer, the dismissive shake of the head. “And you're still thinking about me, aren't you? Even as you fail at being his kept boy, you know you should be doing better, doing your _job_ –”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up –”

“ _You_ were the one who kissed him. You moved things forward, and now you can't take it back. You're supposed to be his boyfriend, and you can't even manage this one little thing –”

“I can do it! I just have to figure out –”

“How not to freak out? Good luck with that.” A pause to let the pain land fully. Then he'd lean forward, ready to twist the knife – he's always been good at hitting people where it hurts –

“But, if it's too much for you… you could always let me handle it.”

Virgil grits his teeth.

“Logan doesn't want you. He wants me, the _real_ me.”

“Uh-huh. And how sure are you he can tell the difference?”

Virgil lets out a long, shaky breath. “If anyone can, he can.”

He can hear the vicious glee, as the voice drips with scorn:

“ _If_.”

He mulls the possibility over for a few seconds, even as the thoughts feel like acid eating through his brain. Not every client wanted things rough. Some liked it when he sighed and trembled and made all the right noises, when he played at letting them touch a part of him that he'd long since locked away. Perhaps it would be easier, if he let himself pretend with Logan…

But where would the pretending stop? If he did it once, Logan would expect more of the same, and Virgil wouldn't be able to tell him the truth or Logan would hate him and leave him and he'd be left completely alone –

“You'd better hurry up and decide,” his anxiety whispers. “You've already kept him waiting long enough.”

“I know,” Virgil thinks back, miserable. “I know I have.”

And at that, finally, his anxiety has nothing more to say.

***

Virgil avoids Logan for the next couple of days. He throws himself into writing job applications, cleaning the apartment, cooking every meal – anything to try and contribute something to Logan's life with him. Anything to keep from feeling Logan's gaze on him, expectant and waiting…

But when he hears music coming from the kitchen on Sunday afternoon, he can't help but go and investigate.

Logan is playing a song on his phone, tapping a finger on the counter along to the beat. When he hears Virgil, he looks up smiling, and holds out a hand.

“May I have this dance?” he asks, pompous and faintly teasing, just like he's asked a hundred times before. And this? This, Virgil _can_ do.

The song is in waltz time. It's familiar, too.

“Paramore?” Virgil questions as he steps into Logan's hold.

“My knowledge of pop music is rather limited,” Logan admits. “It was this or Strauss.”

And then they're dancing together, a simple box step one-two-three, familiar as breathing.

“Do you remember the first time we learned to dance?” Logan asks softly.

“Gym class, ninth grade,” Virgil answers promptly. “It was raining so hard we couldn't go outside.”

The faintest pressure from Logan and Virgil knows to step back. They're moving across the floor, whirling in slow circles around the kitchen table.

“I don't think they expected us to actually enjoy it. They certainly never taught us anything worth knowing.”

“Thank fuck for Youtube,” Virgil chuckles.

A pause, and Logan spins Virgil effortlessly. He catches him again perfectly on the beat, and smiles.

“You know,” he says. “When the waltz was first introduced, it was considered risqué.”

Suddenly, Virgil feels watched again, Logan's eyes upon him making him itch with uncertainty. What does he look like, in Logan's eyes? Is he holding himself too stiffly, standing too close, breathing too fast? Is he dancing the way Logan's boyfriend would dance with him? Perhaps if he knew the answers, he might be able to guess where Logan was going with this conversation.

“Uh.” Virgil says, a beat too late. “Victorians were prudes, I guess.”

“Pre-Victorian, actually,” Logan says, suddenly looking distant in a way that turns Virgil's stomach for reasons he can't explain.

“I, uh…”

Virgil steps back suddenly, out of Logan's arms, bringing them both to a sudden halt. He doesn't have a clue what to say, but he still fights against the urge to run, leaving him frozen.

“What I mean to say,” Logan says, ever so softly, “is that the standards of what is considered sexual or romantic are culturally dependent. They change over time. They are not rules that have to be obeyed.”

He walks over to the counter, and turns the music off.

Virgil is mortified, his face flaming red.

“You don't owe me anything, V,” Logan continues. “I'm not expecting anything from you.”

Virgil crosses his arms tight over his chest, glaring at him.

“You've told me that before,” he says.

“And do you believe me?”

“No.”

“Then I shall continue to repeat it.”

“But it's _not true_!”

The words burst out of Virgil with sudden fire, and he can't stop himself from continuing.

“You do expect stuff from me! You expect me to be happy and normal and not freak out all the time. You expect me to not be scared and I _am_ and I don't know what to do about it –”

Logan's expression is frozen in shock.

“I – Virgil – you've always had panic attacks, I don't –”

“You expect me to not be afraid of you.”

Logan blinks. Once, twice. Virgil sees tears starting to well, and his heart breaks.

“… You're afraid of me?”

“I don't know how not to be,” Virgil says sadly.

He turns, intending to leave the room, but –

“Wait.” Logan's voice sounds choked. “Please. Can we talk about this?”

“Why do you want to?” Virgil scoffs.

“Because I've hurt you.” Logan sounds offended, even through his sorrow. “I have to fix it, please –”

Of course. Of course Logan is the one apologising, even as tears run down his cheeks, tears Virgil made him cry –

“How are you like this?” Virgil asks, his voice cracking – and suddenly, he's crying too. “How are you still so good, L?”

Logan stares at him from across the room, but for once, he doesn't seem to have any words.

“That's what scares me, okay?” Virgil whispers. “That you're good, and you feel everything so much, and it makes me want to do the same but I… I can't, it's too much. I'm not strong like you are.”

“I don't understand.” Logan shakes his head.

Virgil hesitates for a moment.

“… You want me to kiss you for real.”

“You don't have to –” Logan objects.

“No, it's not – you want me to kiss you, or smile at you, or just be around you, whatever – but you want me to only ever be _real_ with you, right? To always be honest about my feelings?”

“I… yes?”

Logan sounds uncertain. Virgil can't remember the last time he heard Logan sound so unsure.

He bites his lip.

“What if I don't know what's real any more? What if I can't tell what I'm feeling?”

“Oh,” Logan says. And if uncertainty was strange, then hearing him sound defeated, sad and small, is completely unheard of.

“So… I'll go pack my stuff,” Virgil says slowly. There's no point in drawing this out. He's already taken more than his fair share.

But to his surprise, Logan frowns.

“Do you _want_ to leave?”

“What?” _Why would that matter?_

“I won't ever stop you from going. But I have no intention to oust you from the apartment over this.”

“… Why not?”

Logan sighs, and gives Virgil a look that seems to see right into the core of him.

“Do you need me to remind you of what the word 'unconditional' means?”

Virgil shakes his head. “I can't give you what you want, L. I'm not going to force you to tango when it's a waltz you're looking for.”

“I… I don't want to re-evaluate our whole relationship when we're upset, I intend to take some time alone to calm down before even attempting to make any kind of decision. But…” Logan shrugs. “I would rather sit on the sidelines with you than dance with anyone else.”

Virgil swallows, hard.

“Oh. Okay then.”

He takes a deep breath.

“Uh, about that calm time alone?”

“Yes?”

“Can we do it together?”

Virgil holds out a hand with the question. Logan takes it, squeezing gently once.

“Of course.”

***

Two hours later finds the two of them curled up on the couch, Virgil tucked under Logan's arm. The room is hushed, no sound but their heartbeats and gentle breathing.

When Logan speaks, it's so soft it barely disturbs the silence.

“Virgil? There's something I want to say to you.”

“Mhmm?” He looks up.

“I love you,” Logan says, and the world stops spinning.

“I don't expect you to say it back,” he continues, “but I wanted to make it clear. I love _you_ , V – not your body, or the way you act, or the things you can do for me. If you asked to stop dating me and return to being friends, it wouldn't feel like a loss. I love every moment I spend with you, even the bad times, and I cannot imagine any possible situation in which that would ever change.

“Is that alright?”

Virgil blinks at him, slowly. It's a lot to take in, and he isn't sure he really totally believes it yet.

But maybe that's okay?

He smiles a little, almost in spite of himself.

“Hey, Logan?”

“Yes?”

Then Virgil kisses him. It's like the tide coming in, a rush of emotion trying to wash him away – but this time he has an anchor. He holds on tight to Logan, and does not feel washed away as he puts everything he cannot say into the gentle touch of his lips.

He thinks Logan will understand.


End file.
